Claret
by AlternateHistorians
Summary: You live for seventeen years, and in one night, you're born again. When Saguru left England, chasing after a phantom, he never relized the what the darkness would offer. HakubaKid


**Claret**

_Claret (noun)  
1. a dark purplish-red colour.  
2. a dry red Bordeaux or Bordeaux-like wine.  
3. slang: blood  
_

Saguru tightened his jacket around him, staring up at the stars in the sky. The small stars twinkled brightly above him, reflecting the same cold beauty as the diamonds that rested on the velvet showcase in front of him. Sighing, he turned away from the sky, footsteps crunching over broken class as he turned away from the showcase and past the men cleaning up after the failed heist.

It hadn't even been a decent attempt at a copy cat.

The note was an obvious forgery, the style too unsubtle and brash. The thief had been an amateur

, weak and useless, captured within the first ten minutes. It would have been five, but the explosion from the left exterior wall had left the task force confused.

Saguru shoved his hands into his pockets to warm them as he stepped through the ruined doors into the gardens surrounding the front of the museum, heading home. It was useless to stay for the clean up, he wasn't needed nor wanted, and his prey was no where around.

His footsteps were heavy, each one sounding on the deserted street with an echo, crunching over bits of loose gravel and debris with a grave finality. His breath came in small white puffs, drifting off towards the cloudless sky.

A cat yowled somewhere in the neighborhood and the hairs on Saguru's neck stiffened, his spine tightening with irrational fear. Shrugging his shoulders, he attempted to shake off the nervous anticipation, forcing himself to continue walking, to keep from freezing mid stride. Sharp eyes darted about the empty street, taking note of each shadow, the position of every box and hideaway.

His shoulders rounded slightly, head lowering to bury itself in the coat until his nose brushed over the collar. He was shrinking, closing in upon himself to better defend against the shadows and the night. The wind suddenly whistled down the street, blowing papers and discarded coffee cups along with it. He huddled more inside his coat, nose completely disappearing under the collar of the bulky jacket, eyes barely visible over the collar and under the rim of his hat.

The hands in his pockets tightened, one clenching around the revolver in his left pocket, while the other simply made a fist, manicured nails digging gently into the flesh of his palm.

The wind suddenly turned, blowing the other direction, against the young detective, forcing him to stop and lower his head, shielding his eyes from the flying dirt and debris that whipped around him in the sudden onslaught.

There was a crunch, gravel pushing against the hard cement sidewalk and Saguru turned, staring at the dark, empty street behind him. Resuming his walk, he watched the shadows again, eying their twisting shapes, silently berating his own foolishness even as he did so.

So intent on his thoughts, on the shadows before him was he, that he dismissed the sound of whispering silk even before it registered. He was suddenly surprised, by a gloved hand covering his mouth, an arm wrapping easily around his waist, turning him, spinning him into a dark alley and pushing him against the wall.

Heart hammering, he stared with wide eyes, as the moonlight reflected off glass, twinkling and distracting. His hand tightened on the gun in his pocket, sliding it out just as pain erupted in his neck. He could feel the teeth of his attacker sinking into the flesh of his neck, withdrawing as the lips tightened around the twin wounds, sucking harshly, drawing his blood to the surface and then through the holes.

He struggled, trying to push Kid off of him, succeeding in sending the annoying top hat flying off Kid's head, victim to the wind still howling outside the alley.

Blackness started eroding at his vision, the strength in his body weakening with each passing second. He could heart his heart beating in his ears, speeding up to a rapid job before starting to slow, each beat a mourning cry for the blood slipping from him.

It was so cold.

The darkness finally claimed him, his body falling limp in white clad arms. Kid smiled down at the pale, death relaxed face, a gloved finger slowly tracing over the curve of Saguru's jaw. He slid his hand up, through tea coloured strands of hair, resting at the back of Saguru's head, gently cradling it.

"Blood for blood," he whispered silkily, leaning down to press his lips to Saguru's, the stolen blood still dotting his mouth smearing across Saguru's lips as he forced the detective's mouth open, tounge flicking over the roof of his mouth. He bit down hard on his tongue, feeling his fangs slicing through the fleshy muscle, blood welling quickly over the surface.

He returned to the kiss, blood spilling into Saguru's mouth and down his throat, the body in Kid's arms taking a while to respond to the ancient necromancy. Once-cooling hands slid up Kid's back, gripping tightly, body shifting, lips pressing harder against the ones sealed over theirs, eager for more that mouth had to offer.

The deadening tongue burst into movement, sliding over the injured intruder, gathering what was offered, hungrily claiming it. A low growl spilled from Saguru's throat as he found the gift inadequate, and he pulled away from the kiss, golden eyes hungry as they latched on the moonlit curve of the thief's neck.

Kid watched Saguru's gaze shift and he tilted his head, baring more of the neck to starving childe, muscles and tendons pressing against the taunt skin. It took barely a moment for the teen to strike, newborn fangs eagerly pressing against and into flesh, slicing veins with hurried rage. Saguru whimpered softly at the lack of blood flow, sliding his fangs free of the wound to strike again, calming as blood slipped free of the now unblocked depths.

Kid groaned deeply as Saguru fed, each pull tugging on pieces deep inside him, playing over his nerves like a finely tuned violin. The pleasure thrummed in his veins, reaching new highs with each draw. Saguru worried slightly at the wounds, opening the further, eager for even more of the blessed ambrosia spilling over his lips.

As Saguru drew more crimson nectar from Kid's neck, Kid reached out, brushing a gloved hand over the marked flesh of Saguru's neck before leaning in, slowly slapping at the wounds. His movements were unhurried, relishing the last lingering drops pooling at the surface, before he slid his mouth over the slowly-clotting lesion, the tip of his tongue, toying at the holes before he drew in fresh mouthfuls.

The pleasure that had been rising in his body suddenly flowed out, following his mouth, down into the wound on Saguru's neck and deep into the detective's body before being pushed back into Kid's from the mouth on his neck. It circled endlessly, never stopping, never ceasing, continuously rising before suddenly exploding, sending starbursts off behind the closed lids of both detective and thief, drawing cries from their throats.

Saguru panted harshly, needlessly, leaning back against the wall, his eyes unwavering as he stared at Kid who was smiling down at him.

_Fin._


End file.
